A Game of Control
by binx-349
Summary: Some offers are impossible to refuse, even when you know that you should. [GSR]


Game of Control 

Pairing - G/S

Rating - R

Summary - Some offers are simply impossible to refuse, even when you know that you should.

A/N: Much love to Kayand Lindsey, they put up with all my weird insecurities over this.

_An intricate power play such as theirs was always best watched from a safe distance. _

_One would make an attempt to reach out, only to find that the other had taken a discrete step back. It was a dance that had been going on for so long that it was difficult to know what had set it off, or who should be making the next move. _

_This was a dangerous game, one in which it was all too easy to get hurt - to get lost. _

_You needed to exercise control just to keep yourself from falling._

Even while standing in the harsh light of the morning, she still managed to feel jarringly cold. She frowned. Why was she even here? This was ridiculous. End of shift, she should be home, curled up with a book and some music. Not standing here just waiting for another rebuttal. She was setting herself up for a fall, yet again. It seemed she simply couldn't stay away. She shivered, shrugging briefly in an attempt to disperse the feeling. It didn't really help.

Her hands which were gripping the cold metal railing behind her, were gripping it so tightly that they were practically white. She leaned her weight back wearily against the barrier outside his door, while attempting to apply some kind of recognisable logic to her decision. Tough cases often triggered this sort of rash choice to apply a severe lifestyle change. Today was no different. It was probably not the wisest decision she had made. In fact she was sure that it wasn't. There had been years of flirtation, she wasn't blind. Yet something had always prevented him from advancing further. This 'something' probably wasn't going away just because she wished it. That simply wasn't the way things worked. Not in her experience anyway.

Sometimes she tried to think back to when it was that things got this bad. What had gone wrong in her life that left her at this point? It had not always been good, but it had certainly been better. Sometimes she wondered why she had come at all. Of course she knew that answer. She would move across the world for him, even now. He had always managed to leave her with an unnerving sense of perpetual uncertainty; of where she stood, of what he wanted. She wished it had been different. That she could move on to a future without him. She couldn't do it. It was a flimsy excuse for her to stay when there were so many other reasons why she should leave. She always tried to distance herself from her motivations, and it was something she tried to avoid confronting. It had worked very well for her for years.

She dug her hands into her jeans back pockets, perhaps to resist knocking. It didn't matter. It didn't work anyway. Maybe this was simply the product of her overworked brain? Maybe she should run while she still had the chance of retaining what dignity she felt she still had? She wanted to, but couldn't. It was as if someone else rang the doorbell, and that she had simply stood back and watched; a spectator on her own life. It was unsettling. She disliked having such a lack of control over her life, her actions. It made her feel vulnerable. She hated that.

When she had considered all the scenarios, this was not one that had immediately sprung to mind. It was one that came to light after too many years of rejection and over analysis, of over-thinking of every little response. This was where it had got her.

He was by now standing in the doorway, watching her with a look of mild confusion. He didn't say anything, simply standing aside and motioning her into the room beyond. It was oddly dark in his living room in comparison to the harsh sunlight outside. It was a relief to get out of the glare despite the immediate feeling of claustrophobia that set in at being in his home, alone, with him. The very thought of this made her more nervous than she had been previously. It reminded her of the morgue, in a clinical, minimalist sense. She suspected that having hundreds of dead insects pinned to the walls did not help. At least it was clean. But then she would happily wager fair amount of her pay check that he really didn't spend much time here anyway. It had a transitory feeling, a place to sleep and that was about it. His office was more homely.

He had stopped and leaned expectantly against a table behind him. He was waiting for something. She knew what he was looking for; the thought of giving him an explanation for her presence was not appealing.

She knew somehow that psychologically this was not a good move. It was one that could seriously backfire on her. It was an emotional gamble. In her heart she knew it. Yet here she was. Some masochist she was. She must have re-hashed the pros and cons of every approach a hundred times by now. At some point you simply had to take the plunge. It seemed that today would be that day.

She knew what she was there to offer. She knew what it meant to her. What she did not know was what his response might be. He was unpredictable. It was one of the reasons she was even giving this a chance.

The thoughts were running around her head in ever decreasing circles. Trying to pinpoint her meaning was more difficult than she had imagined. She was offering herself. His choices were simple, either take up her offer, or turn her away. The scales were biased heavily towards the latter direction. But if the chance was there she was going to take it. The consequences could be considered later. They were certainly not trivial by any means, but some things were worth more if they came off as planned. They were worth the risk.

Her ribs felt tight and it was a battle for her to speak at all. He looked at her, the discomfort obvious in her stance, nerves visible in every gesture of her hands when she spoke.

"I only want you to listen, just - hear me out." She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to remember what this speech had sounded like when she had planned it out in her head earlier that morning. "I-uh," She stopped. This was never going to come out how she wanted it to. These important moments in life never did. It was just one of those things. She was sure that it must be a scientific fact.

Her decision was made in a split second. No going back, no giving in.

She took the two short steps that brought her level with him. If she kissed him, would it answer his questions? End or enhance his apparent insecurity when it came to her? It was all she could do.

She pressed her lips to his in a desperate gesture; his hands unconsciously landing on her hips to steady her. Their heavy weight felt right at home.

It took several long moments for her to break away. It was something she didn't want to have to do. She stepped back very slightly, scanning his features for a response.

His eyes strayed to the wall behind her, studiously avoiding her gaze. He took a silent step to the side turning away from her slightly so she could no longer read his expressions.

"Sara, there are so many reasons…" There was a sense of deep resignation in his tone. He moved stiffly, clearly fighting an inner battle. He was temped, she knew that he was. "You"

She took a step towards him as she spoke, watching him closely. "You know what? I don't care anymore." She paused. "That's what's happened… to me. I just-I don't care anymore." Her words echoed through the room causing him to lift his head to look at her. He took several moments over his distant appraisal; it was noticeably eerie on a number of levels. The level of his scrutiny worried her. It left her feeling exposed.

"You should." It was said without emotion. His face was impassive, it gave nothing away.

"It wouldn't change anything." She replied shrugging unevenly.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. He could barely hear her voice. It had dropped to a level below normal pitch. "All I want is what you have." It was walking the line, she knew it. Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked down towards the tiles of the living room floor. It was as close to begging as she would ever allow herself to get. Her pride would allow no more.

It was freeing to admit. She had been sure he had guessed anyway, but the look of amazement in his eyes led her to believe that he had truly not realised. It didn't stop her wanting a large hole to come and swallow her before a reply could be formed. She clenched her hands by her sides in an attempt to hide the tremble. It was all she could do.

He took several strides towards her stopping a couple of feet away to observe her for a moment. Watching his indecision was almost painful, the corner of his lip twitched slightly. His eyes travelled over her face, she knew he must be trying to read her, and hoped beyond everything that her desperation was not as glaringly obvious as it felt. It was strange that their most crucial exchanges seemed to go unspoken, to take place in gestures, in the flicker of pupils and shared glances.

She tried not to hope, told herself not to believe. It was impossible.

"You know you can't go back". Her breathing quickened, even though he was yet to touch her. There was something intoxicating about his proximity that she had never been able to understand, and could certainly never explain. She hated the way he could seep into her mind with seeming ease.

She had planned her arguments over and over in her head. What she would say. She was silent. Her body ached with withheld emotion. To let the façade down would have been a blessing. She swallowed, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Through the darkness she could see his face, intense eyes an unfathomable blue. She stood transfixed, her hands in tight fists at her sides. She had not realised that there could be silence like this. She felt a flutter of excitement inside her, and found she could not breathe. Unable for a moment to speak, she nodded with feigned confidence. Beneath, she was shaking. 'Nervous' didn't quite do it justice. Years of anticipation had only sharpened her arousal.

His hand on her neck was feather light, she barely felt it as it traced along her shoulder and down her arm. The touch of his fingers sent a jolt through her chest.

He saw the faint smile on her lips and pulled her into him.

It was intended as an emotionless release, which in its way would do for now. He couldn't risk a real relationship, but it seemed that this was less of a threat to him. Emotionally unavailable; physically, right here. In her opinion, anything was better than nothing.

He seized her, crushing her to him, skimming his hand down the center of her back, her buttocks, fondling, caressing. She murmured something unintelligible into his neck, pressing her into his body. Everything she had thought she had known about him vanished in a moment. This was a side of his nature she had never been able to envision, and certainly never seen. She was fascinated by every little facet of him. There had always been gaps in her knowledge of him, and it was these which intrigued her the most; gaps which she was filling, slowly but surely.

He was stronger than she had expected, but she was surprisingly accepting of his dominance. He seemed absorbed in skating his fingers over her collarbones.

She had never known desire like this, only hints whenever he was near,and suddenly she was overwhelmed. She didn't care what happened. She gasped as his fingers tightened on her breast, her whole body felt alive. Any uncertainty she may have had soon faded.

All she had wanted was a sign; that was the simple gratification needed to keep her going, to keep her encouraged. The passion was there; so what was fuelling it? Whether it was lust or love she could not really tell. But from experience she knew that one often led to or stemmed from, the other.

There was no hesitation in his movements. He touched her with deliberate intention.

His hands glided back down her body. Sara gave a small moan. She was so overwhelmed with the need for him that she had even stopped analysing the situation, stopped worrying about the consequences; something that was almost unheard of for her.

His hands closed firmly about her wrists, wrapping his fingers over the delicate bones. She knew he had a possessive nature. His very reaction to the revelation of her 'relationship' with Hank had been proof enough for that. So his inclination for control did not surprise her. She found herself flush to the wall, his hands pinning her wrists near her waist. She stared at him, ached to touch him. She hardly noticed the harsh chill of the bare wall on her back.

He wanted her. She could feel he wanted her, and yet he seemed not to be doing anything much about it. His body was pressed up against her. His hands, which had left her wrists, were now planted firmly on her hips.

She was trapped between his body and the wall and was too far gone to care. Their lips were so close, and she was tempted simply to give in, to move the extra inch, but held back. It would have to be his initiation. She had gone as far as she was going to.

When he finally moved there was something languorous about his kiss, it juxtaposed the determination evident his other movements. His hands moved from her hips to her waist, pushing up her shirt to run his palms over her abdomen. She took advantage of her now free hands to grasp at the waistband of his trousers. He didn't seem to have noticed, or wasn't troubled by her actions.

As the kiss deepened, he moved his attentions down along her neck, and the subtle line of her jaw, breaking off only to draw her shirt over her head.

He was tantalisingly close; tentatively she raised a hand to trace his features with her fingers. He caught her hands bringing them to his chest sliding his hands up her forearms. His eyes trailed over her body with such enthusiasm, she could all but feel the touch of his gaze on her skin. She was so finely tuned to him that she could feel it rising in goose-bumps where his breath brushed it. There was infinite warmth in the touch of his fingertips. It inflamed her, leaving her feeling faint.

Only he could have sent her into a passion induced daze this potent; where things didn't quite seem to make sense. She barely noticed when he left her, returning only a few moments later. The thought of protection had barely entered her mind, and she couldn't bring herself to be concerned. The tickle of his lips on her temple brought her straight back to him. It only served to highlight her blind faith in him.

His hands moved with resolve to the clasp of her jeans. He had soon insinuated a hand between her thighs. Her back arched unconsciously, pressing herself into his hand. Her world dwindled to containing only him, anything else felt as insubstantial as vapour, something that she could not grasp.

He ran his hands up the backs of her legs, before pulling her towards him. She clamped her arms around his broad shoulders, biting her lip as he entered her.

He intuitively held back watching her until she tightened the grip of her legs, encouraging his movement. His pace was achingly drawn-out. The sense of urgency that had been there before had given way to protracted deliberation.

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his. He pulled back for a moment brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. "Sara?" His throat constricted on her name. She opened her eyes and did not respond, but her hand gripped his shoulder almost painfully, pulling him closer to her again. Every time she thought she caught a glimpse of what was beyond the curtain, it seemed to move, remaining on the edges of her vision. She simply could not seem to pin it down. The intensity she saw in his eyes was surprising to her, and the possibility of his love made her giddy. Forming sentences was beyond her now. She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips urging him deeper, burying her head into his shoulder to muffle a groan. He obligingly grunted in response.

He consumed her imagination. He always had. This was much like anything she had ever imagined in her wildest fantasies coalesced. There were things that she would still dream of, but it seemed that these were still a little way off. She knew it would be too much to ask for at this point. He was as ever, elusive, emotionally reserved; she didn't expect that to change overnight.

He kept her balanced on the brink. It was where she often felt she lived, where things could either go one way or the other. It was a condition she barely had time to contemplate before being plunged into a state of bliss. He collapsed against her, his breathing harsh against her ear. Her body was still quivering, humming. Her skin was so sensitive that she could hardly bear the feel of his fingers as they grazed along the side of her stomach.

She reached a hand out touching it to his cheek, and tried not to flinch at his instinctive recoil at the contact. His grip on her lessened impulsively. It was disturbing to her how suddenly he could change. How he could go from loving and passionate to cold and aloof in moments. She tried not to let her disappointment in his emotional withdrawal obvious. She was scared now of falling too far, of getting too close. It had been one of the problems from the start, but a problem which she had been sure she could overcome. She thought she could distance herself far enough from him that she wouldn't let it bother her. How wrong could she have been?

The continuation of emotional concealment is more than tiring; at some point the disguise is going to slip. It's inevitable. The truth will show through. It was simply a matter of time before the whole situation imploded on itself. It was this that she already feared in a gamble she had barely started. She had given him a comfort zone in not knowing the strength of her feelings; although she was sure there was more to it than that to him too. It was there in the tenderness of his gaze, the caress of his hands. In his attention to detail, to her; the little things that made all the difference.

Today had changed everything. She could feel that things were different, the dynamic had altered. He did not know it, but with this shift he had given her hope. Getting any kind of admission from him might be the most complex part, but at least now she believed that it could be done. She knew that it could be done.


End file.
